Originally posted a couple days ago to her blog, Be Where Your Feet Are, Nicole has graciously given me permission to share her post in our ATLAS series. When I read these words, God reeled me back in. He reminded me I am dust, he knows & has always known I was dust, & although I tend to rest on the mess this entails, he does not. He still breathes his life into my lungs every day, pumping miracles & I am with you’s through every second, including the hidden ones between him & I, me & my husband, me & my family. Crying, laughing, loving, & feeling. Miracles. Holy breath. He is with us, giving us these holy, glittering shards in a dessert land of grains of sand. These are his & he remembers. We are dust, yes. But he is still breathing life into our lungs. He is still filling us. Miracles. Holy breath. Thank you, Nicole.
By: Nicole Eanes
As I’m cozied up on this snow day with a warm sweater and a cup of coffee in hand, I am reminded of how delicate we all are, how miraculous we all are. After all, humanity is simply dust mixed with the very breath of God. And I’m finding God is with us in the most Mysterious and the most Ordinary of places. Remembering our love of coffee and game nights and phone calls and take out.
“For he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are made of dust.”
It’s been hard, really hard. The tension between processing what’s happened and wanting to share my heart even though I don’t quite know what’s inside. I want to share stories and laugh and catch up over coffee but it’s not always that easy. My heart is anxious, weary, and burdened. I’ve shared the good stories on Instagram and I’m left with the hard stories. The long, sleepless nights accompanied by sick, restless days. No one wants to hear the stories of flat tires, getting locked out of the house, running out of money before pay day or losing your temper with your roommate.
And so, I’ve been avoiding people and I’ve been avoiding God.
I avoid people because they won’t understand all the intricacies I want to share. And I avoid God because his words have lost their wonder but I know the truth is still there. I know God can and will use people to carefully unravel the bandages on my wounds to clean them and let them breathe. And he, with compassion and gentleness, will wrap them up in clean bandages so they can heal properly. His words will find life again and friendships will feel like home. And as necessary as I know these things are, I also know the exposure to the air – the revival of feeling at home and the words of truth – will hurt even if it’s all a vital part of my healing.
So I fill my days with Phil Dunphy and Jane Villanueva. I drink never-ending pots of Hazelnut flavored coffee. I search through pinterest to find thought-provoking quotes with the hopes that they will inspire me to draw nearer to God. I call my sister and sit in the beauty of her Love and Wisdom. I play games, watch movies, and stumble into the kitchen for coffee with my roommates; all while swimming in the Grace and Hospitality they extend to me everyday.
A man called David writes that after many years of seeking the Mysteries of God, he found the Lord to be compassionate towards humanity, towards his children. Saying, “for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are made of dust.” He remembers that we were made of dust mixed with holy breath – his holy breath.
وعلينا أن نتذكر ذلك بأنفسنا، ونكون متواضعين أمام الله. وأتساءل في نعمته والخير لنا.
In Arabic texts writers add to this Mystery saying, “And we should remember it ourselves, and be humble before God; and wonder at his grace and goodness to us.” We should remember that while we are miracles walking around with life and breath and laughter – we are all these things not because of all the dust but because of the bits of holy breath.
So here I am – remembering the dust that makes me fragile, messy, and often times tired. Remembering the humility that we forget comes with being a human, our oneness with the earth and each other. And I’m also remembering the breath, that holy breath, that allows us to be human and experience this whole universe with each other. I’m remembering the Giver of Breath and Laughter and Goodness.
In the end, I think it’s all about remembering we’re all a lot of dust and little bit of holy breath.